Chapter 14

Dean and the girl walked not quite side by side along the border between prairie and trees. The girl kept several feet away from him, but always had him in the corner of her eye. Both her hand and her speech fell silent, and he didn't try to break into her thoughts. It was a relief, actually, to have another person physically there beside him again, instead of talking in his head or singing his conscience at him, or worst of all, pounding at his resolve, telling him to give up the pretense that he could live and hunt without letting his killer instincts take over. Having her there, not exactly beside him, but at least willing to help him—"You think", the Mark pulsed—quieted the tumult that had begun to take him over in his solitude.

Still, he kept scanning their surroundings, looking for the sparks, the bear he'd woken up or the creatures with human faces who seemed to want to keep him locked away. Safe. He pulled his sleeves down to his elbows to cover the amulet's face again, but kept his jacket in hand. He felt the weight of the obsidian sway back and forth, as it shifted in the pocket, and was glad for its solidity and heft. None of those damn creatures was going to take him by surprise again. None of them are gonna get close to her.

He tucked his clumsy arm in its damp bandage against his stomach and kept pace with the girl, careful to stay where she wanted him to be.

"Follow a cat into a cell—follow a girl—to somewhere—I must be losing it—" he grumbled to himself.

"How far are we going?" He asked. When she looked at him, he rolled his left hand around in front of his chest in an encouraging "out with it" gesture. "How far?"

She smiled quickly and shrugged at him, pulling her shoulders up high and stretching her arms wide out at either side. Dean huffed, looking away to hide his embarrassed smile at her imitation of his moves. "That far, huh? OK, Sunshine-" He shot her a glance as she said something short and teasing-sounding. "Hey, I think it's a good name for you—" he said, and raised his own hands to answer her with a pantomime of his own, when he heard a scuffling rustle behind them. They both turned in the direction of the riverbank to see the underbrush beneath the cottonwoods shivering with movement. Something was thrashing around in there.

The girl looked at him, and he indicated that she should go ahead on the path. She started walking again, picking up her pace, and Dean dropped behind her, keeping watch behind them. He walked backwards, twisting and doubling his jacket over his hand to secure his grip on his weapon, until they had put a football field's worth of distance between themselves and the shaking bushes. Nothing burst out from the riverbank to chase them. At last, he turned his focus back to his guide, and saw that she had pulled ahead by a dozen yards. He jogged to catch up.

They went up a little rise that took them away from the river and towards a plateau where patches of scrubby trees joined with more cottonwoods in a broken line. As they got closer to the top, he could see that these trees were both taller and thicker than the ones overhanging the river, but also somehow tougher looking. They looked like gnarled survivors of some upheaval, holding out for a rescue that never came.

Ain't that just a poetic thought?

He heard voices, high-pitched and excited, from somewhere up ahead. It sounded like they—whoever they were—were calling the same thing, over and over. He glanced at the girl as the smile dropped from her face. She moved faster, still, and Dean followed, irritated with his shortness of breath and the dizziness that came over him as they climbed. Sam's apple was gone a long time ago.

They topped the rise and saw a scattering of people a hundred yards ahead of them, at a spot where the juniper scrubs and trees gave way to tall grass again. He could make out their tan tunics and long black hair, shining with blue fire in the sun. Some were standing, others walking about, and they all were calling out that same word.

"Hey—is that your family? They looking for you?" he asked. When she turned to stare directly at him, he repeated, "your family?" He tried to recall the sign she'd made before inviting him to follow, and he put his hands up against his ears, pulling his fingers down as if he was combing through a long head of hair. "That's where we're going, right?" He pointed at the group of people—girls or women, he thought, up ahead.

She said nothing with either speech or fingers, simply spun back around and resumed walking towards the group, her mouth a straight line.

As they drew nearer, the tallest girl in the group spotted them, and began talking to Dean's companion, her scolding tone apparent even to him. He hung back as the older girl strode up to Sunshine and took hold of her shoulder. The younger girl, still silent, looked down at the ground as she accepted the scolding. Dean stood silent himself, observing the older girl. She held a blue cloth shawl around her shoulders with one hand as she spoke to her younger—Sister? Cousin?—but one side of it had slipped askew, exposing a bit of collarbone under her tanned leather shift. At her waist, her dress was cinched with a leather belt beaded with what might be porcupine quills. He saw a short knife in a plain scabbard attached to the front of the belt. From her darting glances at him and agitated gestures, he knew she was worried by him, this stray that Sunshine had picked up.

The other girls were gathering behind the eldest in a loose group of varying ages and heights, the youngest only about six, while the eldest might have been seventeen. The six year old stared silently at him, while the others were caught up in the scene before them. Some were apparently amused by his guide's plight, as they whispered to each other or echoed their leader's scolding in a jeering chorus. One, a girl of maybe fourteen, stood a little apart, giving Sunshine a sour look that would have given Sam's best bitch-face a run for the money. Yep—it's her family.

Given the age range, they might all be—Sisters, the amulet chimed. OK, sisters, he agreed. All girls, and there were—he started counting—Seven of them. "Huh," he said under his breath. Sam, you never finished that story.

Big Sis hadn't slowed down her scolding, and Dean cleared his throat. "Look," he said, and she shut up abruptly, staring at him in surprise. Sunshine turned to look, too, chin rising in a stubborn expression that made him like her even more than he already did. He opened his mouth and pried his clumsy hand away from his stomach, raising both in the placating move he'd amused the girl with down at the river. How do I let them know that I'm not here to hurt anyone? Dean froze, looking down at his guide, imploring her silently to say something in his defense.

She didn't get the chance to say anything, though, as another voice rang out from behind them. This one was male, and he sounded angry. Dean turned, feeling the weight of the stone in his jacket pocket, the pulse of the Mark against the cord. He brought the jacket up tight, again, experimenting with its heft. Never hurts to be prepared, his father whispered in his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Big Sis grasp his guide's shoulder and push her towards the other girls. Sunshine shouted in protest as a figure broke from the scrub below them.

Dean was half-expecting one of the creatures, but it was a young man who appeared, rushing up the hill. He had a knife in his hand, and he was shouting at them.

No—he's shouting at me, Dean thought.

The Mark beat out its familiar call to the kill, and Dean braced himself against it. He raised his hands, palms up instead, though he kept his jacket with its hidden weapon twisted firmly in his grip. The young man ran towards them, calling out angrily. He seemed to be throwing in some gestures as he got nearer.

"Great, more charades," Dean muttered.

The young man was older than Big Sis, but not by much. He wore his long hair in two braids wrapped in cloth, and he was dressed in worked leather like the girls' long tunics, though his clothes were closer to what Dean would call shirt and pants. He was strong, and angry, but Dean could also see fear in his face as he approached. Fear might make him sloppy-if it came to a fight. Dean stood his ground.

The young man stopped a few yards away, brandishing his knife in his right hand. At the same time, he swept his left hand up, and he kept making a sharp backhanded wave at Dean, like he was trying to flick something off his fingertips, or to shoo him away. Dean instinctively shifted into a defensive stance though he kept his arms up, hoping that this gesture might be close enough to whatever they used for "no harm, no foul."

Locked in this impasse, both men were startled by Sunshine's voice, calling from the group behind them. She darted past her elder sister and ran up next to Dean. He stared down at her as she shouted at the boy. The young man-brother-shut up in surprise or irritation, but didn't lower his weapon. When the girl paused for breath, Dean said, "Not a great place to be standing right now, kid," feeling a half smile forming on his face in spite of the situation. She looked up at him, returning the grin, and then her gaze traveled down to his right arm. Before he knew what she was doing or could step away from her, she grabbed him by the elbow above the bandage, yanking his arm down to her level.

"Ow!-Damn it, what are you doing?" he yelped at her.

She'd reached up to his sleeve cuff and was pulling it up, past the bandage, past his elbow, up until she saw a piece of the cord tangled in the cloth of his sleeve. He started to pull away, grabbing at the sleeve with his free good hand as she grasped the cord loop and pulled. He felt the knot tighten against his bicep, and yanked his arm out of her grip, but not before the amulet had swung free. The bronze face rocked back and forth a few times, and he heard its tuneless humming rising up in his mind. "Small-small-" it sang.

Sunshine was talking again, dividing her attention now between the boy and her sister. At one point, she looked at Dean and made the curved horns symbol with her hands to her temples, before giving him another exaggerated shrug.

He shook his head at her. She turned back to her sister again, now indicating the black cloth covering his forearm. Her voice took on an imploring tone, and Dean suddenly realized why she had brought him here. His voice sounded rough in his ears as he told her, "Don't think she can fix me, Sunshine."

Big Sis broke the stalemate then. She spoke just one word, and Sunshine stopped talking. Their brother stepped forward, his knife raised, but the girl rebuked him sharply as she approached Dean. He couldn't help the smirk that raised one corner of his lips at that. Ha—how about that, Big Warrior Brother? Not so big—just a Warrior Boy. But he quickly sobered when she reached him and tentatively touched the bandage. He flinched even though the touch was lighter than a breeze, but forced himself to stand still. He watched her hand leave the cloth, reach up, and brush against the amulet. He felt the little face warm to her touch, even as the Mark protested. She smiled at it, then gently took his arm by the wrist and began guiding him up the next slope towards the other sisters and another nearby stand of trees.

The Warrior Boy shouted again but she ignored him, forcing him to trot up the slope to catch up to them. He pulled alongside Dean and kept pace there, knife gripped tightly in his hand as he glowered at the older man. The other girls parted ranks as they passed and then fell in behind Sunshine.

The girl in the blue shawl, who had become Big Sis in his head, led him to a small clearing partially shaded by three tall cottonwoods that grew in a clump at its east end. He could see baskets and ground cloths organized neatly at the edge of the shade. The baskets held what looked to him like hanks of cut grass, and roots of some kind, and some dusty purple berries, too. Wish I hadn't thrown away my phone. Sammy would love to see all of this—

The girl let go of his wrist and indicated that he should sit down on one of their cloths. He looked at Sunshine, who nodded and smiled at him encouragingly, sitting herself down near the spot that Sis had indicated. Warrior Boy also waved at him, making a fist of his hand in front of his chest and pounding it straight down as if onto a tabletop, in an unmistakable command to "Sit!"

"You ought'a watch your temper, kid," Dean told him, taking a step in his direction, before a sound from Sunshine stopped him. When he glanced over, her beseeching expression deflated some of his anger at her cocky brother, who, he guessed, was just trying to protect his kid sister. "OK, OK—you win," he told her, and he knelt beside his guide

The boy stepped closer and loomed over him, crossing his arms. Dean bristled and the Mark pulsed in displeasure at the boy's closeness. But, gritting his teeth, he laid the jacket across his knees, close to hand, and considered the boy from his lower vantage. Unbidden, he thought, It'd be simple. Sweep your arm behind his knees and follow up with a quick jab to the throat when he topples over-

The amulet rocked once, setting up a low warning chime in his head. It was enough to remind him where he was and who he was with. He unclenched fists that he hadn't noticed tightening and tried to focus on Big Sis instead of her semi-tough, slightly older brother.

It felt good to be sitting.

Big Sis, digging into one of the baskets, finally came up with a small beaded purse and a short length of what might be a broad strip of rawhide. She also grabbed a bulging oblong pouch that had been laying in the shade of the basket. She approached Dean and offered him the pouch. He put up his hands and shook his head. "No, thanks-"

Sunshine laughed at him and tapped his left arm. When he looked at her, she mimed taking the pouch and tipping it into her mouth. "Sam said not to-" he said, and then sighed, knowing that his refusal didn't make a lick of sense. On his right side, the Warrior Boy made an impatient noise and echoed his little sister's gesture. "No!" Dean said, and made the throwing-away sign that he'd seen his guide make. He might have been more forceful than polite.

Big Sis was staring openly at him in wonder and confusion, and he felt suddenly sheepish. "Thank you, anyway-" he said in a softer tone to her. She seemed to brush his words aside, and knelt in front of him, placing the bag on his lap. She reached again for his bandaged arm. He reluctantly let her take it, and she began inspecting his handiwork. The black cloth was soaked through now, and crusty with a mix of blood, river-water, and his own sweat. He shrugged an apology at her that she ignored as she found the end of his wrapping job and started undoing it.

The wounds still looked much the same as they had when he'd scrubbed them in the river. When she uncovered the Mark, she paused, turning his arm back and forth to examine it more closely. He could see her notice the little red lines extending from it to the punctures. It took everything he had to hold steady and not pull his arm away when she touched the brand with her fingertips and transferred her gaze to his face. He felt his forearm tensing painfully with the effort, and even saw the edge of the muscle exposed by the puncture above the Mark shift under his skin, causing the wound to open and ooze more blood. The exposure to air and the tension pulled the dull aching pain he'd been experiencing into sharp spikes that seemed to travel from wound to wound. He pushed back at the pain and swallowed the bile that threatened to rise. Sunshine was asking something, but her sister held her gaze on Dean and did not answer.

Dean shook his head at them both. He could feel the Mark pulsing violently at her touch, and wondered if she sensed it as well. "Long-long story," he said. "Better you don't know."

Sunshine moved so that he could see her and gave his open-jawed bear impersonation back to him, following it with her tossed-away, "no." He did not trust himself to speak, but he nodded in agreement. Sure as hell was not a bear. Right. The amulet seemed to rise up and down with the pulse of the Mark, chiming in his head, sadly and wordlessly.

Warrior Boy broke into the group's stillness, settling down on his haunches to get a closer look. The amulet's chiming grew louder, more insistent, as Dean turned towards him, his attention first on the knife. It would be so easy to grab it, even with his clumsy hand. The boy had loosened his grip on the hilt and was now holding it across his lap with the pommel pointed invitingly at the Mark. He forced his gaze-more of a glare, really, but what the hell does the kid want from me?-to travel from the blade up to the boy's face. The boy was leaning over now, far too close, and he reached out to place his free hand on Dean's shoulder. As his hand grazed Dean's arm, the amulet's song suddenly became a high-pitched squeal of alarm. He winced and began to pull away from the younger man's touch, confused by the amulet's warning.

The boy blinked as he pulled back, and Dean saw something drop from the corner of Warrior Boy's eye. At first, he thought it was a teardrop leaking out, but it was blue and it flashed in the sun and then, impossibly, moved sideways across the boy's cheek. As Warrior Boy smiled without warmth down at him, the blue streak-spark, it's a spark-zipped back up the other side of the boy's face and back into his eye. Dean saw several sparks drift across the kid's pupils in a chaotic dance before vanishing back under his eyelids. Oh, shit. Warrior Boy's possessed.

Dean jerked back, yanking his arm out of Big Sis' gentle grasp and, colliding with Sunshine's shoulder, bowling her over in his haste to grab his jacket and stand between her and her brother. Big Sis exclaimed, and the other girls, who had been quietly playing or talking to each other nearby, froze and stared at him. He swayed, but raised his weapon as Warrior Boy smoothly stood up, blue sparks now dancing freely about his head reminding Dean of the sparks that had splashed against the blocked door in the cave.

And I woke that thing up, and made it charge the barrier. Hell, probably led it right to the river.

He glanced down at Sunshine's frightened face.

"Sorry, kid," He said to her. He turned towards Warrior Boy. "Wish I could help you, too. But it probably ain't gonna work out that way." His clumsy, marked and warded arm tensed and he went into a defensive crouch, watching the boy as he tracked his little sister move back away from them. Dean wrapped the jacket around his palm and lifted it until he could pull the obsidian chunk out of the pocket and palm it in his left hand. The boy's stare left Sunshine and returned to Dean's face. He grinned a wide and senseless grin, and raised his knife, casually flipping it in his hand until it pointed downward in a classic brawler's grip. Dean heard Big Sis gasp and scramble back out of the way, and he grimaced as he waited for the inevitable attack.

Warrior Boy was possessed, and Dean was sure it was his fault, but damned if he wasn't going to do something about it.

Damn it, Sam—wish I knew how this friggin' story is supposed to go-

Author's Note: Thanks for sticking with this, or trying it out if you just arrived. I believe we are reaching the end, only a couple of chapters left, so I hope you'll come back to see how this one goes! In the meantime, please review to let me know what you think? Your reviews keep me going-